Remember Who You Are: A Post For the New Year

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Tonight is the last night of 2017. Even though it’s an arbitrary date in a calendar that humans made up, we still use this time to set new intentions, make new plans, and create new goals. At the beginning of another year, there always seems to be pressure to make yourself better, to do better than you did in the past.  However, in focusing so much on the future and how things could be better, I think we miss out on a lot.

I think we miss the chance to appreciate where we’ve been. The past contains important lessons, and a view of our journey. We need to take a moment to stop, and just honor our path to the place we are now.

To much focus on how things can get better leads us to forgetting how blessed we are in the present. This is a big one for me. For most of my life, whenever I set a goal, I didn’t do it to improve– I did it to become worthy. Losing weight (even when I didn’t need to) was to become worthy. Working was to become worthy. Going to school was to become worthy.

The problem with trying to achieve goals to make up for feeling like a defective human as opposed to wanting to achieve a goal for its own sake is that the former will always, always, set you up to fail. Because there is no accomplishment on this earth that can make you feel like enough until you accept that you are God’s creation, holy and beloved, and that nothing can take that intrinsic worth away from you. There is no amount of pounds lost or miles run or money made, no grades high enough or enough good deeds done to equal what you already have right there in your heart, if you’d only recognize it: the beauty of the light of Christ that shines through the darkest depths.

I started college when I was 17. I’m 34, and I only now graduated. Why? Because I only now accepted that I am a whole, healed human being who deserves to be happy, who deserves to graduate and accomplish my dreams. I never graduated before, not because I wasn’t smart enough or because I couldn’t handle the work but because I was afraid of being happy. I honestly didn’t believe I deserved that. So I tanked the play, for nearly twenty years.

Before you set a new goal, make a new plan, or dream a new dream this year, do yourself a favor: stop. Take a few minutes. Look back on 2017 and appreciate how far you’ve come, how hard you had to work to get here. Honor your journey and all the lessons contained therein. Think about your goal and why you chose it. Are you trying to better something in your life for the sake of making it better? Or are you trying to make up for a lack of self-worth? Check in with God, and pray on your goal. You’re going to need His help to accomplish it anyway. Ask Him to be with you as you walk this this new path. Ask Him to heal any places in you that still feel unworthy; to remind you of His promises, His love.

Setting goals and making plans are good things. Keep your heart centered in the right place, and may God lead you to where you’re meant to be in this coming year.

 

 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: 

The old has gone, the new is here!

2 Corinthians 5:17

 

Judah Levi Brown: One Year

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Last night was the one-year anniversary of the death of Judah Levi Brown.

Judah was the vivacious, beautiful, three-year-old son of my dear friends Mark+ and Christi. He drowned in a tragic accident, and this past year they have lived every parents’ nightmare.

And yet, I have seen more grace through their grief than I thought possible of any human beings.

Mark+ is somewhat of a public figure. He is an Episcopal priest who goes to my church (and often serves there) and he serves around our diocese whenever another priest is needed (called a supply priest). He also has the largest online prayer group in the world, with over 400,000 people on Facebook. His life has been an open book for many years, even through the time he met and married Christi, and they had Judah. When Judah died, there were really only one of two choices: to turn away, shut down and grieve on their own, or to grieve openly with everyone. They chose to grieve openly. It’s one of the most grace-filled, courageous decisions I’ve ever seen two people make.

By choosing to bare their grief process to the world, they allowed people to witness what is usually a private pain. They allowed people to witness them struggle with their faith, struggle with their anger, struggle daily with the devastation of losing a child. They allowed people to witness the deepening of their relationship to God through that struggle. The deepening of their relationship to each other and their other children. They allowed people to see how they guided their other children through their own grief, which they did with such care and love. They allowed people to see them reach out for help, through therapy, for them and the children, and through the church. They reached out to their family and friends. They both processed through writing, but Christi especially took to Facebook nearly every day and wrote journal-like updates, poems, and prayers. Christi’s writing didn’t just tell people what it is like to lose a child. It let us into her heart and soul, to viscerally grieve with her.

As is their nature, Mark+ and Christi used their experience to help others. They created an online support group for grieving parents. They allowed Judah’s story to be used by one of his former teachers to create the Judah Brown Project, which works to prevent drowning in kids like Judah. They’ve worked very hard with his teacher, Annette, to make this project into a full-fledged charity that is saving children’s lives, preventing people from having to feel the pain they are feeling.

Once a month, for the past year, on the day that Judah drowned, and on the day that he died- the two are a couple of days apart, as he lingered in a coma- they lit candles in front of his photo and held a small vigil. In June, we celebrated Judah’s birthday at his grave, and had his favorite foods, shared memories, shared laughter and prayers. The year anniversary drew closer.

I know, from my own trauma, that everyone shows up in the beginning. Everyone is there when the original tragedy happens. As time goes on, it gets less present in other people’s lives, and people begin to drift away.

But it never gets less important in your life.

I don’t know if I’ve really done anything to help, but I’ve made every effort to be a there-for-it-all friend. I’m in, and I’m in for good. I was only friends with Mark+ and Christi for about a year before Judah’s death, and I wish I had known Judah better, but I do remember him and I will never forget him. I wish I could do more, but perhaps the best thing I can do is be there, and make sure they know that their loss is important to me. They are important to me. And their son is never forgotten.

Last night, as we sat around Judah’s grave, we watched a video about him on Annette’s phone. It was a photo series of his whole life. We laughed and cried. Stories of the photos were told. As we watched, it began to rain. It rained gently, and another friend there remarked, “We’re just being baptized.” It was a holy, Spirit-filled moment.

When it got to the minute that Judah’s time of death was called, a candle on his head stone was lit. We held silence for a few minutes. I read a prayer:

 

Heavenly God,

With a mother’s strong love
you shelter us in your shadow,
and you mourn as we do the death of this child.

Love Judah forever
as we have loved him.
Guide our steps in the way of peace
till with our eyes we behold you
and shall praise you with all the saints
for ever and ever.

Mark+ shared a little more with us, and closed with a benediction. We left with hugs and prayers and smiles through tears.

Moments like these are why I feel called to be a priest. It was a privilege to be with Mark+ and Christi and their children as they marked this anniversary. It is a privilege to be their friend, to witness their grace and faith. It will be a privilege every time I am with someone as they grieve, celebrate, wed, baptize, die, are ill, or in spiritual distress. To just be present with someone, without trying to fix, is a holy thing.

Thank you, Brown family, for allowing me to be present. Thank you for letting me remember Judah with you. Thank you for letting me laugh and cry with you.

I love you.

 

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.

Revelation 21:4

To donate to the Judah Brown Project, please click here.

 

Prayer above adapted from two prayers by Gabe Huck from the Catholic Catalogue.

Published with permission from the Brown family.

“Too Blessed To Be Stressed”: Bullsh*t

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“Too Blessed To Be Stressed.”

You’ll see this phrase often on Christian art and gifts. Tote bags and painted pallets, travel mugs and tea towels that declare that one cannot be simultaneously “blessed” and “stressed.”

I have always found this phrase to be problematic. Right now, I found it downright offensive. Who decided that it’s not possible to be stressed out just because you’re also blessed by God? How are we defining “blessed” anyway?

Right now, around here, “blessed” tends to mean that your family is safe and your house didn’t flood. This was the case for me. However, I have been careful not to say that I was “blessed.” I’ve been saying “lucky” or “fortunate” or other words because saying I was blessed not only seems theologically unsound, it seems rude. If I was blessed by God with a safe family and a dry house all the way through Harvey, doesn’t that imply that other people were not blessed? Doesn’t that imply that God picked and chose who would be blessed or not? Doesn’t that imply that God had some list of people He was going to protect and some people just weren’t on it?

I simply don’t believe that.

I believe that humans are responsible for climate change and therefore are a good deal responsible for massive hurricanes and other events we like to call “acts of God.” I believe that humans have over built this area and did not pay attention to warnings about flooding and so we are a good deal responsible for the extent of this disaster. I believe that whether a person’s house ended up flooding or not was due to chance, because rain fell on everyone, everywhere. The rain fell and where it rose the highest had nothing to do with God’s favor, and everything to do with the way the earth is shaped. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. Matthew 5:45.

Whether your house is safe or you lost everything, what I have discovered through this disaster is that we are all blessed. We are all blessed because we are loved so deeply by God. We are all blessed because we are not alone. We are all blessed because we are reaching out to help one another, through acts of service, prayers, and love.

That does not, however, mean that we are not stressed. Natural disasters are fucking stressful. Especially if you lost everything, but even if you didn’t. Because it’s everywhere. The water, the damage, the hashtags, the helplessness. The need is overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and often we don’t know where to start. (Hint: prayer is always a good place to start.)

Being blessed and being stressed are not mutually exclusive. In fact, stress can often be a blessing in itself, and blessings help get us through stress. God gives us both.

So excuse me, but whoever came up with that cutesy phrase can shove it. They clearly have never experienced a hurricane.

 

Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

 

 

 

Living Water

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“Are you ok?”

“Is your family safe?”

“Did you get any water?”

When I went to church this morning- our first full Eucharist since hurricane Harvey- I was bombarded by those same three questions everywhere I went. Most of us knew how the others were, thanks to social media. But some of us hadn’t seen each other since before the storm, and all the questions were about the water.

The water. This storm has changed the way I feel about water. I used to love rain, and maybe one day I will again, but right now the thought of rain just sounds threatening and terrible. I never understood the awesome, destructive force that water could be until I drove through a river that was usually a street, until I saw the highways of my city turned into seas, until my friends’ and neighbors’ homes were all but washed away. Until I saw water flood the house where my priest lives for the second time in less than 18 months. Water not only took homes, it took treasured belongings, people’s pets, and even some people’s lives. It took the life of my friends’ son a little less than a year ago, when he drowned in a swimming pool.

 

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It’s difficult to see water this way. It’s difficult to feel that the one substance that all of creation counts on to survive has somehow become a force that’s destroying life. Right now, water feels toxic. It feels almost animalistic, like a living thing with a mind of its own, attacking the people of my community, my city, my state.

What brings me back from that fearful place is the reminded of what water means to us as Christians, and especially as Episcopalians. To us, water is living; it is a symbol of the Holy Spirit. It is what baptizes us into our lifelong relationship with Jesus Christ. We are washed in water then sealed and marked with oil as Christ’s own forever. During Eucharist every Sunday, some water is poured into the wine before it is given to the people. I’ve heard several explanations for this: 1) the water and wine together represent the water and blood that poured from Jesus’ side during the Crucifixion, 2) the water represents Christ’s humanity and the wine His divinity so the mixing of the two is us witnessing his human transformation, 3) the water represents us, the people, and the wine represents Christ, and the mixing symbolizes how we can never be separated. My personal favorite is #3, but those all make sense. The point is that water has a very central place in our liturgy, a very central place in Scripture, a very central place in life. It is the most life-giving substance on earth, both biologically and spiritually, and yet here it is, in hurricane form, causing so much devastation. So much pain. So much loss.

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For everyone I know who has been terrorized by water in the last week, my prayer for you is that as you find your new normal, and you work to repair what you can, and as we, your community, help you do so, that you would remember the waters of your baptism. The waters that washed you clean of sin and grafted your hearts onto Christ’s own for eternity. May you feel the healing powers of water: of a hot shower, a good cup of tea. May we remember that everything that has within it the power to destroy, also has within it the power to create.

Together, may we create a brighter future beyond the storm.

 

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And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.

Matthew 10:42

 

 

 

 

We Must: A Hurricane Poem

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We Must

 

The sun

Is out

But the storm

Is not over

We must keep watch

With those

Who work

Or weep

This night

We must keep hold

Of those things

Most important

And learn to grieve

What is not

What is lost

To take joy

In what is left

We must have hope

And believe

Not just in God

But in each other

Compassion

Is salvation

And love

Will dry the tears

The earth has cried

 

© Sarah Ann Henderson 2017

 

For all those affected by Hurricane Harvey

 

The Lord sits enthroned over the flood;
    the Lord sits enthroned as king forever.
 May the Lord give strength to his people!
    May the Lord bless his people with peace!

Psalm 29:10-11

God is Where We Invite Him: Eucharist in the Storm

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Some Church hard-liners might shudder at the way I just celebrated Eucharist. I sat on my mom’s bed, where I’m sleeping until the hurricane ends (so I can be downstairs, near the laundry room, our tornado shelter) and put a piece of sandwich bread on a paper plate, along with a small antique glass that belonged to my great-grandmother. I filled the glass with red wine I bought at Walgreen’s a few days ago.

This was the Lord’s meal.

I put my phone and my prayer book out, so I could listen to my priest, Beth+, celebrate Eucharist over a Facebook live broadcast from a fellow parishioner’s home. I was not alone, as so many of my church family also followed along. We listened, prayed, and sang, the way we have in so many Eucharists before. We were together. We blessed whatever bread and wine we had as Beth+ blessed the bread and wine in front of her.

And God was present in every crumb, every drop of this piecemeal meal.

There are perhaps some Church officials who might say that these gifts weren’t truly blessed, because they weren’t touched by a priest’s hands. To them I would say that God is wherever we invite Him with faithful hearts, and especially as we celebrate the Lord’s meal together in a time of crisis. I would also argue that indeed, Beth’s+ hands touched every piece of bread and every cup of wine, in every place someone was watching, as we were together in spirit, and our hands were an extension of hers.

God is everywhere that there is a faithful heart. As so many of us are kept apart by the flood waters, as we are stuck in place until they recede, frustrated that we cannot get to each other, it is a great comfort to know that God binds us to one another still, through prayer, love, and hope.

It is a comfort to know that as always, we share one bread, one cup.

Peace be with you.

 

For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.

Matthew 18:20

As the Waters Rise

 

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I am struggling to understand.

I am a woman of deep, abiding faith. So far in this terrible storm I have seen God everywhere and nowhere.

If you are in Houston, as I am during this record-breaking hurricane, you probably know what I mean. All around us are beautiful stories of neighbors and friends helping each other, complete strangers jumping in to save homes and lives, dedicated first responders, medical staff, and other essential personnel staying hour after hour to make sure people are taken care of. God is working everywhere.

At the same time, there is devastation all around. Homes are destroyed, precious memories and belongings lost to the water. Whole neighborhoods flooded, businesses gone, so much infrastructure damaged. Tornadoes are touching down, leaving damage and chaos in their wake, as if the flooding wasn’t enough. People are lost. People are dead.

And it is still, still raining.

The thing that has absolutely crushed my heart and I know the hearts of my entire church family is the flooding of the rectory, where our dear priest lives. This house was completely flooded last year, and our priest had just moved back in two months ago after an entire year of exhausting renovation. She and the church had invested so much in that new house, and just like that, it is washed away again.

Beth+ is just…well, she just does not deserve this. No one does, but honestly, I just cannot understand this, and it makes me ill to think of it. The “whys” are too many.

There is so much pain, and so many prayers being sent up all around Texas tonight. My family has been so fortunate. Aside from a leaky roof, we are dry. We are safe. My mom is one of those dedicated nurses who remains at her hospital on emergency protocols, but she is also safe.  I cannot complain. I cannot imagine the disruption, chaos, loss, grief, pain, and distress that others are going through right now. Until the storm passes, and there are more concrete ways to help, I can only pray.

I’ve been praying so much, I don’t even know what to ask for anymore. I suppose all any of us can ask God for is knowledge of His will for us, the strength and grace to live that out, and the knowledge that He is always with us, no matter what. That is the only thing that I know for sure: that God is with us, forever.

May each of you feel God with you, feel His strength bear you up, and His peace which passes all understanding, keep you through this crisis.

Amen.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and He brought them out of their                distress. He caused the storm to be still, so that the waves of the sea were hushed.              Then they were glad because they were quiet, so He guided them to their desired               haven. Let them give thanks to the Lord for His lovingkindness, and for His                                                                               wonders to all mankind!

Psalm 107: 28-31

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My Father’s Eye’s: A New Poem

Hello, all. I wrote this poem recently. It may be difficult to read, but that’s kind of the point. It’s meant to reflect the dissonance between the what I was taught about myself by my biological father and what I know to be true about myself through God. As always, thank you for reading!

CW: sexual assault

 

7/29/17

 

My Father’s Eyes

 

In my father’s eyes

I was a burden

Something taking money from his pocket

Food from his mouth

 

In my father’s eyes

I was a toy

If he couldn’t lose me, he’d use me

To fondle and fuck

And torture to his heart’s delight

 

In my father’s eyes

I was a whore

A little red light district to visit

I did owe him, after all

For allowing me to exist

 

In my father’s eyes

I was less than human

And I knew that

When I asked him to kill me

He refused even that kindness

 

Turn the page

Next chapter

 

Now I know he was full of lies

The truth is with my real Father

My Father in Heaven

 

In my Father’s eyes

I am beloved

I am a flawless, raw diamond

Formed out of years of darkness and oppression

 

In my Father’s eyes

I am more than a conqueror

I am His workmanship

I am holy and blameless

 

In my Father’s eyes

I am a new creation

I have a heavenly calling

I am the salt of the earth

And the light of the world

 

In my Father’s eyes

I am a daughter

I am healed

I am free

 

© Sarah Ann Henderson 2017

 

 For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works,which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ephesians 2:10

 

The Third Step Prayer

Content Warning: Anorexia, Specific Weight

 

When I was sixteen, I was at the very lowest point of my anorexia, literally and figuratively. My weight was hovering in the upper 60’s, and I was nearly in liver failure. I had a heart arrhythmia, I was vomiting blood, and I was terribly anemic. I looked like those little gray aliens, all spindly limbs and big head with black holes for eyes. I looked like the walking dead.

My mom had tried outpatient treatment, and it obviously was not working. She needed to do something drastic, which meant sending me to residential treatment. The place that was chosen was called Shades of Hope. You may have heard of this place, as Oprah did a short-lived TV show about it. It’s basically a few cabins in a horrid town outside of Abilene, Texas called Buffalo Gap. I hated this place the minute I arrived. It was based entirely on the Twelve Steps, was incredibly controlling and manipulative, and had some pretty crazy rules about food for a place that was supposedly treating eating disorders.

(Additionally, this is the place that let me get raped by a guy at a hospital in Abilene, but that’s a separate story.)

Don’t get me wrong; I believe the Twelve Steps work. I have seen and continue to see them work miracles in people’s lives. I think they are limited, however, and are better suited for drug and alcohol addiction than they are to eating disorders, which are inherently more complex in nature because one cannot completely remove food from their lives the way one can remove alcohol or drugs.

I remember that before every miserable meal at this place, lovingly referred to by residents as “Shades of Hell,” we recited the Third Step Prayer. I did it so many times in my few short weeks there that it sticks in my brain even today:

God, I offer myself to Thee
To build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt.
Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will.
Take away my difficulties,
that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help.

Of Thy Power, Thy love and Thy way of life,
may I do Thy will always.

As I was praying last night, or trying to pray, I found myself stuck. When this happens, I stop trying to talk to God and instead just sit silently with Him for a minute. As I did, this prayer popped into my head. I realized that it was exactly what I wanted to say right now.

As I begin this summer- going to school, working in a new business, working hard in therapy and spiritual direction, continuing to take on more responsibilities at my church- I realized that I need to focus on one thing: praying for discernment so I may try to align my actions with God’s will for me. Because there are my ideas about what I think I want. But when I really dig deep, all that I really want is to please God. So I will go where He wants me to go, whether or not that lines up with my current goals or plans.

So I will be grateful, even for my time at “Shades of Hell,” and I will continue to pray:

God, I offer myself to Thee
To build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt.
Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will.
Take away my difficulties,
that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help.

Of Thy Power, Thy love and Thy way of life,
may I do Thy will always.

 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
    and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to him,
    and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3: 5-6

 

Choosing the Middle Ground: Learning Balance in Life and Recovery

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Like a Phoenix, my body has risen from the ashes. My spirit is home.

Content Warning: Descriptions of eating disordered behavior

For those of you who may not know, I recently became an ambassador with Plexus Worldwide. (Check out my website: Shop My Plexus- Sarah Henderson)! Before this, I had been using their products, and I really believe that they can be life-changingly beneficial to people’s health and wellness. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have signed up to help other people access them!

Even though my personal Plexus journey is about reducing the inflammation in my body, healing my gut, and treating my chronic pain and fatigue, a lot of people use Plexus to lose weight, and a number of their products are made with that intention. When I joined, there was a recommendation that I take measurements of my body, my weight, and pictures of my body so I can have “before” numbers and photos for when I ostensibly reach “after.”

This presented a dilemma for me. As a lot of you know, I’m in recovery from an over twenty-year struggle with anorexia and bulimia. Numbers used to be one of my triggers, so I haven’t owned a scale in ten years. In fact, the last one I owned, the one that had seen the worst of my anorexia, I threw off the balcony of my apartment down onto the parking lot pavement, and watched it smash into pieces, which was pretty satisfying. However, ten years is a long time, and a lot of healing and recovery has taken place since then. I wondered if I should do this, for my business. Everyone wants those “before” and “after” photos, right? And I want to see my progress in that area too, if it happens. Weight isn’t the focus of my journey, but my body may change, and I’d like to see that.

At the same time, part of me didn’t want to participate in that diet culture that had contributed to my eating disorder and has contributed to so many others. Part of me didn’t want to post numbers and photos that could trigger others trying to recover, and wanted to not do it at all, not on my own behalf, but as a direct protest against that kind of focus purely on weight instead of health.

So in order to get some guidance, I posted my dilemma in several places on Facebook; my personal page, and two Plexus pages. And I got at least fifty comments, most of which were in agreement that I should do what’s best for me and my health, including my mental health. As it turns out, Plexus doesn’t really care about diet culture as I’d feared. As a company, they really do care what’s best for each individual and their personal health journey, NOT on selling weight loss products at any cost. This is one of the reasons I’m so proud to be working for them. The support I received from my team was incredible, and both they and my friends from my personal page really felt that if it would put my recovery in jeopardy, it just wasn’t worth it.

Here’s the thing, though: I didn’t know that it would put my recovery in jeopardy. It’s been a very long time since I’ve even really been exposed to my body’s measurements, so I didn’t know what my reaction would be. I did figure out something interesting from one comment, though. A friend that I was in eating disorder treatment with said: “Absolutely not something you should do. I would stay away from the scale and measuring. It’s not worth the risk of relapse.” And when she said this I thought: I absolutely do not feel at risk of relapse. Ever. Certainly, not at the sight of some stupid numbers.

Over the years I may have used behaviors every now and then when I am especially stressed. I may have eaten only “safe” foods for awhile, or restricted some, or binged and purged a few times. But those are bumps in the road, little rocky times that happen and I get back on the path within a few days. I do not descend into the destructive thinking process that is the eating disorder itself, and I do not continue in that behavior pattern. Which makes those bumps in the road part of recovery instead of precursors to relapse. I don’t ever feel in danger of going to the extremes I’ve gone to before, of treating my body like a disposable object that I can starve, abuse, and kill. I don’t ever feel that I will descend into the obsession that makes a person live on a packet of oatmeal a day, taking two hours to finish it, eating it one oat at a time. (I actually did this.) I will never again spend six hours at a time in the gym, needing the machines to tell me that I have burned every calorie that I ate that day. I will never again eat so much my stomach stretched to make me look nine months pregnant, and then force myself to vomit until I saw blood; and then do this three more times in one night, every day. I will never again be so emaciated that I am in liver failure, and have a heart attack at 17 years old.

I will never again allow myself to treat my body as anything less the the sacred being it is.

In order to be able to do the above things to yourself, your spirit cannot be attached to your body. You cannot see life as sacred or worth living. At the very least, you can not believe that you deserve to live, to exist, to take up space in this world. You cannot believe that you are worthy of the basic necessities of life: love, security, food, sex/touch, a comfortable home, a healthy body. These basic rights are not meant to be yours, for whatever reason. (Usually because you were somehow told or shown that they weren’t.) Your brain and spirit are dissociated from the vehicle meant to carry them and, crazy as it sounds, when you’re doing the above things, it truly doesn’t hurt. In fact, it feels really good. Powerful. You’re in control. It comes at a cost, but you really don’t care. Bodies are disposable.

I know that I’ve entered into true recovery, the kind that’s invulnerable to full relapse, because I’ve crossed that threshold into knowing that life is sacred. My spirit lives in my body now, and I fully understand that to harm my body in those ways is to harm my heart and mind and soul as well. When I fall into those behaviors, it’s short-lived because now it actually hurts when I do them. I feel what used to be numb and I have that life impulse, that inherent instinct that whispers this feels wrong. I know that I am fundamentally worthy to be alive, to exist, to take up space. I am worthy of health, love, food, sex/touch a comfortable home, and safety and security. I have a right to those basic things as a human and a child of God. And nothing that happened to me could ever take that away. Knowing that means that I cannot ever become as self-destructive as I once was, because you can’t destroy what you love and believe is sacred.

Powerful stuff, reality.

So as to my dilemma, I decided on taking a middle way. Today I did take measurements of my hips, waist, and bust, I stood on a scale and took my weight, and I took photos of my whole body from the front and the side. Except, I wasn’t the one who did it. During my therapy appointment today, I had my therapist do it! She asked me all throughout if I was having any feelings come up, any anxiety. I had none. Because I trust her, because I wasn’t alone, and because I had this done in an environment where I feel safe, I think my non-reaction was predictable– but still awesome. I love that seeing those numbers had no effect on me.

I won’t be publishing those numbers or photos; they’re purely for me to keep to see my own progress. I’ll weigh and measure myself again in six months, or maybe three depending on how I feel. I’ll always do it at my therapist’s office. (She’s an eating disorder specialist and works with a dietitican which is why she has those things.) I feel this is the healthiest way for me to track those numbers.

I will be daily tracking other factors, such as sleep, energy level, and pain levels, because those are the things I’m really focused on changing with Plexus. If I lose weight or my body changes, ok. But know this: I’ll never again make that the one, undivided focus of my life. Because sure, being petite again would be nice– but I’m not willing to die for it.

 

Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.

Samuel 16:7

I appeal to you therefore, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Romans 12:1-2